


Give it your best (and just say screw it to the naysayers)

by unicorngirl



Series: A Constant Thing [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Aomine gets sweaty, Bad Cooking, College, F/M, Schmoop, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicorngirl/pseuds/unicorngirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chopping should be easy enough, she knew, even if the peppers seemed slippery and the onions made her eyes water. She'd ordered a nice set of knives online that could supposedly cut through an exhaust pipe. A tomato should be nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give it your best (and just say screw it to the naysayers)

**Author's Note:**

> One: If you're not into anything A/B/O and the whole host of issues it can bring up then you don't want to read this. A/B/O for world building purposes has a lot of naturally 'gray' areas. Fair warning is fair. (this is fairly tame... but still)  
> Two: For an A/B/O fic, this has surprisingly no sexy times... sorry about that.  
> Three: I have seen the anime but not read the manga.  
> Four: I hope you enjoy it!

Momoi leaned forward and peered at the open page she'd selected. On the opposite side, a colorful and artfully presented photo took up three fourths of the space. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pushed up the sleeves of the oversized and ill fitting sweatshirt she wore. Behind her, the afternoon sun set fast and cast long shadows across her small apartment kitchen. She knew, without glancing over her shoulder, dark clouds had begun to cross the horizon. 

She popped a hip against the cheaply constructed formica countertop and reread the list again. The header on the book cover proclaimed each and every recipe contained within was fast, easy, and fail proof. 

Momoi found the words difficult to believe.

The clock above the stove ticked loudly in the otherwise quiet space and she let out a deep breath between clenched teeth. Crunch time. She knew her cooking history and could forecast with absolute certainty how good her own dish could be under the right circumstances. 

There weren't many ingredients, and she piled them quickly before turning anxious eyes back to the book and clicking on the oven.

Chopping should be easy enough, she knew, even if the peppers seemed slippery and the onions made her eyes water. She'd ordered a nice set of knives online that could supposedly cut through car exhaust pipe. A tomato should be nothing.

The correct tools ensured success. Momoi repeated the phrase continually under her breath while sinking a small fortune into new pots, pans, knives, and other staples. In basketball, using a worn, smooth ball or playing on an uneven court cut a person's skill and could jeopardize the entire game. Her dollar store pots and used utensils were holding her back. She'd benched herself.

Next door, the muted sounds of a television started. Momoi started at the noise, fingers clenching on the knife and mangled tomato she held, and quickly glanced past the half unpacked boxes towards her front door. 

Her new neighbors smelled like anise and apples and been married for over twenty years. They looked alike, talked alike, and even dressed alike. And they always, without fail, watched television in the evening. Cop shows, juicy dramas, news reports, she'd heard them all. When Momoi moved in, the two betas brought her cookies and offered to pick up her mail or water her plants if she ever left town for a few days.

They, like the entire building, made for a perfect fit. She resolutely turned back to the book and reached for the spices. If she got this into the oven fast enough she'd have time to study for a bit before Aomine arrived. 

Of course, she didn't need the meal to be finished quickly. Nothing could be worse than rushing through and wrecking a potentially successful game plan. Number one on her list? She couldn't have Aomine make a stink over it. The chances of him eating it, good or bad, were roughly set at 75%. It jumped to 95% if she'd had a particularly bad day. However, no matter what, he complained like a bear.

It had been annoying as a teen. Watching her team turn up their nose or rush for a garbage at first bite. But, as an adult omega? Her aggravation quickly transformed to embarrassment. Cringe worthy. She'd lived on ramen and microwave meals her first year of college while others of her gender whipped up three course meals for their long term significant others.

She blew a piece of hair out of her face and washed her hands before opening the fish and pushing the thoughts from her mind. Momoi knew the instructions like the back of her hand. Hand written notes she'd added after researching online reviews filled the margins. This was a skill set she knew she could learn. She couldn't be more prepared.

By the time she'd covered the baking pan with foil and popped it in the oven, Momoi's confidence climbed. During preparation? Nothing wilted, smoked, broke, or smelled funny. Already, it far surpassed three of her other attempts. For a moment, she stood and stared at the closed oven door, willing the meal to turn out.

She set the timer on the stove and started the rice after clicking on the local news in the living room. Even if the rest of the meal turned out awful, the rice would be fine. Over the past five days she'd gotten the hang of the state of art rice cooker she'd splurged on.

Her freezer contained enough rice to last six months.

Momoi draped herself over the sofa and grabbed at a pillow. For the next forty five minutes all she could do was wait. She burrowed her head into the soft fabric and inhaled deeply. Aomine liked the worn feel of her sofa and the entire thing stank of him. 

Just the lingering smell of him made the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

Outside, the sun had finished setting and the lights of the city winked back playfully. Momoi lazily changed channels and flipped through her math book. 

A key jangled in her front door over the quiet sound of the television. Her head turned momentarily at the familiar grumbling and shuffling accompanying it.

"Goddamn fucking locks." Aomine hissed. 

His bags landed on the hardwood with a bang as he toed out of his shoes and walked into the kitchen. The fresh smell of alpha filled her small space and she greedily breathed it in. There was a reason 'alpha scents' were the most popular for candles and the highest rated show on television currently centered on an alpha detective team solving gritty crimes in New Orleans. 

Alphas controlled the space they entered with minimal effort and maximum confidence. Most omegas she'd met had seemed almost stunned at their first meeting with Aomine. Some alphas tried to seem less dangerous, more civilized. Aomine? He wanted everyone to know he was the biggest baddest alpha in the room.

He walked into her line of sight with a gallon of orange juice and wiped at his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. He dripped with sweat. She watched him tip back his head and drink directly from the open container.

"Stop it!" She threw a pillow at him. He caught it easily and threw it back. "I didn't buy that for you to slam it."

He shrugged a shoulder and set the now half filled container on her coffee table. 

"You don't even like orange juice." She sputtered at his words and closed her textbook. "I know you just buy it 'cause I like it." He added with confidence.

Aomine grinned lazily and leaned until he could rest a hand on either side of her body, caging her in. She froze at the movement and automatically tilted her head back.

"There's my omega." He whispered, ghosting his lips against the curve of her neck at the sign of submission. She shivered. "Just need a firm hand."

"Get away from me, you need a shower." She grumbled and wrinkled her nose. "And someone to knock you down a peg." Momoi pushed half heartedly at his chest. "I bet Kagami wiped the floor with you." 

"Ha." He smiled like a shark against her skin and nibbled behind an ear. "Practically made him cry. Tetsuya's going to have to spend all evening trying to cheer him up."

"Well," The one on one game with the other alpha had pheromones oozing out of Aomine. Everything about him screamed 'bow down and obey'. Her head spun and her legs clenched together. The omega in her purred. She swallowed, "Tetsu is good at stroking the egos of self absorbed alphas. He had to for years, after all."

"Aren't you funny." Aomine chuckled. Momoi shivered at the warm air against her skin. "I don't need him or any omega to stroke my ego. I know I'm good."

"Naturally."

"Of course, if you wanted to stroke my ego..." One of his hands ghosted up her bare leg and stopped at the hem of her shorts. He frowned. "Are you wearing one of my sweatshirts?"

She froze and he traveled back far enough to get a good look. "You are." He shook his head. "You look fucking ridiculous."

"I do not." Momoi hissed between teeth. "I have to do laundry is all. This was at the bottom of my closet."

Or squirreled away under two pairs of old jeans in her bottom drawer.

"Sure it was. Does it go to your ankles then? Do you have to hold it up when you walk so you don't trip on it?" 

"You're such a jerk. I haven't even seen you in a week, what do you care?" The stove alarm went off loudly and Momoi ducked out from the couch. She tried to force the blush from her cheeks.

"Momoi," his voice followed her, "you made dinner?" 

Her shoulders raised at the apprehension in his voice. Was it really so awful? Really? 

"Yes." She added with what she hoped sounded like real cheer to her voice. "It's going to be so good!"

He made a noncommittal sound.

"I need to shower." Aomine rubbed at the back of his neck and started towards the hall. 

"No you don't." She grabbed at his arm and got dragged several steps before he seemed to realize she wasn't going to let go. "Just eat a quick bite and then shower. I don't want it to get cold."

He frowned and she dug her heels in. Aomine glanced down at her face before averting his eyes. "Fine."

The rice looked good as she plated it and the fish hadn't burned. Visual cues weren't the only indicator of palatable food, but they were a hurdle she'd fought long and hard against. The alpha perched on one of the kitchen counter stools and eyed the dish with a blank stare. He forked at the fish before turning his eyes back to her.

"Satsuki, stop it."

"Stop what?" She smiled.

"You're wringing your hands." Momoi tucked them behind her. 

"No, I'm not." 

He narrowed her eyes and shoved a large piece of fish in his mouth. Aomine swallowed, face twisting into a grimace, and took a long drink of water. The air left her lungs.

"Oh."

"Shut up." He pushed the plate away and grabbed at her arm. She willingly let him pull her between his long legs. With him sitting, he only towered over her by a few inches. "What's going on? The last four times I've been here you've insisted on cooking. Your smell is all over the place."

"It's nothing." She couldn't quite smile this time. "Just, I want to improve my cooking skills. Is it that bad?"

"The fish is a bit gritty." Momoi's mind spun. Gritty? Had she missed a step? Did she forget to add something? Stir something? "And why do you need to be better at it?" He asked and pulled at both arms until he held her hands within his own. "You've always been shit in the kitchen."

She winced at his bluntness. "Never mind. It's stupid. I'll order us pizza." 

Momoi freed her hands, reached for her phone, and swiveled away from him. He sighed loudly and crossed his long arms.

She ordered their usual quickly and tried not to think about how much time she'd wasted. 

"Hey," he said, standing up and using his frame to occupy her space. She kept her back to him. "I don't care if you can cook. You know that."

"I know you don't care, Daiki." Momoi didn't sensor her frustration. "I care. I'm an omega. Omegas are supposed to be good at cooking. And even if that weren't the case, I'm good at what I set my mind to. I want to be good at this, I do everything I'm supposed to do, and I'm still shit at it."

She kicked at the cupboard and clenched her fists.

He froze momentarily and then wrapped his arms around her. A wave of calm sunk deep into her bones and she knew he'd pushed it at her. Muscles relaxed involuntarily and her head rolled back until it rested against his chest. 

"No fair." Momoi said.

They'd known each other long enough that their bodies were fine tuned to one another. Her distress could propel him into an alpha rage and he could literally push the anxiety out of her. It had been frustrating early in high school, when his indifference and her worry had ruled them both with an iron fist. In middle school she'd spooked at a couple high schoolers leering at her and he'd sent two of them to the hospital.

"They're going to regret this decision." He spoke decisively, as if he could see deep inside her.

"Are they?" She asked wetly.

"Yes. That program is going to realize what a mistake they've made. You are going to make them eat that rejection letter."

Momoi sighed shakily and thought of the crumpled up letter shoved to the bottom of her book bag. "It's because I'm an omega."

"Doesn't matter." She raised an eyebrow. "I mean it. They can stick their heads up their asses and try to ignore you. It wont work."

"Seems to be working well enough."

He tightened his hold. "Talent wins out. No one can ignore that. And no one is better at stats than you. You are going to make them cry."

Momoi closed her eyes and shifted her weight back. He easily held her up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He stepped back and tugged her towards the living room. She trailed after him. 

He flipped off the lights as he went until only the television and the skyline through the window lit the small space. Aomine grabbed at the throw blanket on the adjoining loveseat. He flopped inelegantly onto the couch and pulled her after him onto his lap. Momoi folded her frame against his. 

As a teenager, she wished more than once she'd been born an alpha or beta. Looks aside, her personality and focused attitude had people rolling their eyes and mumbling derogatory things under their breath. Wasn't she supposed to be shy and reserved? Wasn't she supposed to be kind hearted and doe eyed? Only after meeting Tetsu had it really sunk in how wrong they'd been.

Tetsu had been right, and Aomine was right. She should never have to apologize for who she was.

"I thought you had to shower?" She said the words against the still damp shirt he wore. He rubbed soothing circles into her back. 

"Whatever." He grabbed the remote and turned the station until it landed on some mindless action movie.

She watched as some hunky alpha saved a gasping and large breasted omega and breathed in the familiar alpha smell. Aomine smelled like home. She needed to convince him to just move in with her. "You really don't care that I can't cook?"

He stilled. "I don't care. Really, let's make a big fucking batch of that fish and invite Kagami, Tetsuya, and the others over before a game."

"Har har." She burrowed into his chest. "Very funny."

"Worth a shot."


End file.
